Dear, Time.
no resolution
Dear Time, I’d love to understand you more intimately. Do you want to be friends? It feels like you’re always running. Always playing peekaboo. Always letting me eat the last chip before I realize there are no more in the bag. Sometimes you show up and leave in a blink and other times you linger. What makes you go? What makes you stay? When I wake up tomorrow —for you, does it even feel like a new day? If you’re forever, do moments even change? Do you feel yourself s t r e t c h — does it tickle? Do you ever intentionally play games? Do you favor some more than others? Draw near and then retreat? Do you even care about days based on numbers? Do you ever experience defeat?
Time, I’ve often feared you. I was taught you were running out… That you were coming for daddy because he’s drinking on the couch. Time, do you remember how many times I ran home, after school instead of walking, thinking if I didn’t go faster, he might die all alone? Time, do you recall all the times I laid in bed as a teenager praying that I’d get married before he was dead?
Time— do you want to be my friend? I can’t always tell Maybe, if you let me know you I wouldn’t have to live under your spell Maybe we could walk in harmony in a garden that bloomed and grew or are you the garden and I’m just an insect passing through?
Are you ever tender towards me? Do you ever reach out a hand? Maybe set the sun a little early So little me could hear the yelling end?
I remember seeing myself in diapers looking in the mirror watching from outside my body as if the view was clearer were you with me in that moment as the one in the crib or were you with me in awareness while I watched that little kid
Were you everywhere at once? - there with me, watching, and now? Are you already with the me that’s going to read this aloud?
Time, you’re so perplexing I really wish I knew if I knew you more deeply would it help me to get through Are there locusts that eat you or do you vanish just for fun do you ever tire, get scared — run? Some days are like fire like smoke passing through and some memories they burn like they’re still living in the room
If you’re stretched out always — then, does that mean… that the me that is here living is really in a dream?
Well, thank you for listening however, it is that you hear When I'm ready to ask more questions I know you'll already be right here Even when you hide -- you never disappear and maybe that's why I draw near. Love, every version of me, Steph. p/s i really want to love you. p/p/s please be my friend.


Lots of questions, lots of confusion, lots of suffering even....
And Time....
Does not even exist.
How you jumped to different ages and places was fascinating and made this more intriguing and intense. Not knowing what it would reveal …much like time…🧡